


Gentleman in the Streets, Freak in the Sheets

by peroxideblonde



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Cock Rings, Cock Slut, Cock Warming, Dildos, Double Penetration, Felching, First Time, Kissing, Large Cock, M/M, Marriage, Neck Kissing, Pole Dancing, Public Blow Jobs, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Service Kink, Service Submission, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Strip Tease, Stripping, Switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-14 03:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peroxideblonde/pseuds/peroxideblonde
Summary: The NSFW accompaniment to my PG-13 fic, Eyes on the Surprise. Basically Yuuri and Viktor banging.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kitarakit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitarakit/gifts), [ElizaF](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaF/gifts).



> First time. To be read after Chapter 16 of Eyes on the Surprise, if you want context/plot/fluff ♡( ◡‿◡ )
> 
> If you’re not a fan of bottom!Viktor, 1) That’s cool and 2) Just wait, top!Viktor will make an appearance shortly. My headcannons are Viktor and Yuuri are both vers and not particularly sexperienced (workaholics unite), and Viktor has a bit of a service kink. I also assume Yuuri would be rather anxious during sex the first time, especially if he’s topping haha. Don’t worry, it’s (kinda?) hot (I hope). 
> 
> This is pretty much pure smut!

“Are you still awake?” Yuuri asks.

“Mhm,” Viktor replies, face in the angle between Yuuri’s neck and shoulder. They’re embracing beneath the duvet in their now usual night-time position. 

“Good. That’s good.” Yuuri’s already racing pulse accelerates. Viktor waits. “So, um, I think you know how I feel about you,” Yuuri continues.

“Mhm.” At least, Viktor thinks he does. He cuddles, naked, with Yuuri every night. This has been the arrangement for months. They kiss sometimes. That means something, doesn’t it? Especially since Viktor has never seen Yuuri touch either of his parents or his sister.

“And since I think maybe you might feel the same way…” Yuuri trails off, and it takes Viktor a long moment to realise Yuuri expects some sort of response.

Viktor tilts his head and kisses Yuuri’s ear. “You don’t know the half of it,” he whispers. He feels the shiver that courses through Yuuri’s body in response. “What do you want to ask me, Yuuri?” He will never put words in Yuuri’s mouth, but he will coax them out when they get stuck.

“I was just wondering if maybe…” Yuuri hesitates again and stares down at Viktor. A moment of absolute silence later, Viktor realizes Yuuri must be panicking.

“Breathe,” Viktor whispers as he pushes Yuuri’s hair back from his brow. Whatever Yuuri’s thinking, it must be stressful. Viktor tries his hardest to be a soothing influence. “Always breathe first. I’ll wait. Now, _in_ -one-two-three, _out_ -one-two three, _in_ -one-two-three…” Yuuri follows Viktor’s direction for a minute before he seems to calm and gather his thoughts. He traces Viktor’s mouth with his fingertip.

“Do you want to have sex some time?” Yuuri asks.

Wow. That was so…direct. They’ve come a long way since Yuuri helped Viktor cover himself up when his shoulder slipped free of his jinbei top. 

With one gust of wind, the little fire burning in Viktor’s heart all these months hits his bloodstream and floods his body with warmth and tingles. When the smoke and flames reach his brain, he floats away.

For once, Viktor can’t think of anything to say. He might not be in his body any longer. He might be observing this proposition from his position floating an inch below the ceiling. He knows he should speak, because if he takes too long, it’ll make Yuuri anxious again, but Viktor’s mouth seems too far from his mind to make any discernible sound.

“It’s OK if you don’t want to,” Yuuri says. He runs a hand through Viktor’s hair and smiles down (up?) at him. “Just know that if you ever suggest it, I’ll probably say yes. I don’t care what we do, I just want to be with you. I trust you.”

Viktor still can’t make a sound.

“Breathe,” Yuuri reminds him. “I’ll wait. Now, _in_ -one-two-three—”

“ _Da_ ,” Viktor blurts. Finally. Wrong language, but whatever. He scrambles for English. “Yes, of course. I thought you’d never ask.”

Yuuri clenches his fist in Viktor’s hair, draws back Viktor’s head, and kisses him with tongue and teeth. Viktor can’t help it. He moans.

“Do you know what you like?” Yuuri murmurs into Viktor’s mouth, breathless. He’s sitting in Viktor’s lap, straddling his thighs, fingers laced through Viktor’s hair. When did that happen? Viktor rests his hands on Yuuri’s hips.

“I’ve never done much with anyone else, other than… How do the Americans say it? Freebasing? Three bases? Third base?” Yuuri snorts but doesn’t correct Viktor’s English. He must understand. “But I’ve done enough experimentation over the years with myself that I have an idea of what feels good.”

“Do you have a preference for, uh, you know…”

Viktor blinks. He knows Yuuri used to strip for money and therefore must have an idea of the mechanics of sex, but it’s still a little weird to hear him asking if Viktor thinks he’s a top or a bottom.

“No preference,” Viktor murmurs, and he pushes his hips up against Yuuri’s ass.

Yuuri’s cheeks grow rosy. “Good. Because I wanted to ask whether I could, uh…” He leans closer and presses his lips to Viktor’s ear. “Fuck you. Please.”

In a matter of seconds, Viktor feels the blood drain from the top half of his body and concentrate in his middle. He never would have guessed one simple word could hold so much power.

“Yeah,” Viktor says, dizzy. “You can. You should, actually.”

“I _should_?”

“Yeah. When? Now? Is now good?” Viktor hasn’t had any time to prepare, but if Yuuri wants to have him now, then have him he shall.

“No, not now,” Yuuri says, sounding embarrassed. “We should each have time to think…prepare…”

Yuuri is right, of course, but that does nothing to stay Viktor’s excitement.

They make loose plans for next week. Enough time for them each to think about things, accumulate supplies, and discuss how they want the experience to go.

-

“Tonight?” Yuuri asks, after a particularly challenging practice the following week. Viktor doesn’t understand at first.

“Tonight, what?” Viktor asks.

Yuuri looks around the empty rinks and rests a hand on Viktor’s wrist. He looks up into Viktor’s face and swallows audibly. Viktor is seized with the impulse to take Yuuri to the ice and strip him. The past six nights have been the best kind of torture, the air of their shared bedroom thick with desire, their bodies electric and yearning, everything unspoken and only soft, cautious kisses to tide them over to the great unknown awaiting them. 

“Tonight, do you want to have sex?”

“I’ve wanted to have sex with you for the past six nights,” Viktor says, blunt as ever. “Actually, longer than that. Much, much longer.”

Yuuri smiles and pecks Viktor on the cheek. “That’s good. I’m looking forward to it.”

-

Yuuri has never been prone to nudity outside the onsen, so Viktor has to scoop his jaw off the floor when Yuuri emerges from his evening shower without his usual pyjamas. Or any other garments, for that matter. It’s the sort of thing Viktor would do. In a strange reversal of roles, Viktor hasn’t even shed his jinbei yet, which he wore for tea with Yuuri’s parents earlier that night, so he is sitting fully clothed on the edge of the bed.

“What?” Yuuri asks, confidence faltering. Viktor wonders what his expression must look like. 

“You’re always surprising me, that’s all,” Viktor murmurs. He extends his arms to Yuuri, who approaches and interlaces their fingers. Viktor draws Yuuri into his lap and presses their lips together.

They’re alone in Viktor’s—no, their—double bed, and the rest of the Katsuki household is asleep, so things go from light to hot and heavy quickly. One minute Viktor rests a chaste two fingers under Yuuri’s chin and kisses him softly, the next, Yuuri has bummed forward, wrapped his legs loosely around Viktor’s hips, and undone Viktor’s jinbei top.

Yuuri slides his hands underneath Viktor’s top, fingers splayed over Viktor’s back, but he doesn’t stop there. He guides the jinbei top down Viktor’s shoulders and back, helps Viktor navigate the sleeves, and then casts the top into a distant corner, as if to signify to Viktor he will not be needing it. 

“Yuuri…” A breath more than a word. Chest to chest, nose against neck, a rocking rhythm and the smooth side of a tooth. “Ah…” 

Yuuri loops an arm in the small of Viktor’s back and guides him supine, lips on collarbone, fingers on hip. The sheets are crisp and cool against Viktor’s shoulders. 

“I’ve dreamt of this,” Viktor murmurs, then runs a hand through Yuuri’s hair. It had been some sort of beautiful agony to dream of sex with Yuuri only to wake with Yuuri sleeping chastely at Viktor’s side for months on end. Yuuri flushes.

“So’ve I.”

Yuuri slides his hand to the front of Viktor’s jinbei trousers and cups him, squeezes almost like he’s curious. As if to ask, _How does that feel_? Viktor moans in response. It feels fantastic. 

Yuuri squeezes harder.

“Yuuri…” A whine this time. Viktor can’t help it. The whine is cut short when Yuuri kisses Viktor on the mouth. It’s soft and sweet with the promise of something gentle and good. 

“Is it OK?” Yuuri asks. His breath is warm against Viktor’s cheek.

Viktor puts his hand over Yuuri’s, the one that’s cupping him still. He applies gentle pressure, and Yuuri holds him more tightly. 

“Anything’s wanted as long as it’s with you,” Viktor murmurs, gazing into Yuuri’s eyes. “I want to do everything with you.” And Viktor glides Yuuri’s hand under the top of the waistband of Viktor’s trousers, beneath his underpants, and against his hot skin. “Is it OK?”

Yuuri nods. He presses in and up with his palm. Viktor bites his lip and holds his breath, watching Yuuri’s face. Yuuri’s expression is calm, but his eyes are bright. He’s searching. But for what? Yuuri takes hold of Viktor, lengthwise, and pumps him once experimentally.

“Mm…Yuuri…” Viktor exhales slowly, unable to keep from flexing his knees and rubbing them together. He’s already writhing, and things have only just begun. As though in response, Yuuri completes the same motion again. “Ah…” Again, and again, and again, in quick succession. Viktor’s hips jolt away from the mattress when Yuuri releases him, as though he can buck back into Yuuri’s hand and keep it going. 

“Patience,” Yuuri whispers, as if he wishes to murder Viktor with this slow dance. Patience? It’s been almost a year!

But then Yuuri begins to slide Viktor’s trousers down past his hips. Viktor helps him.

When the trousers and Viktor’s favourite black thong are a crumpled heap on the floor, and Viktor is totally naked beneath Yuuri’s unwavering gaze, Viktor knows it’s real. He knows it isn’t a dream because Yuuri never gets nervous in his dreams. Yuuri is definitely nervous now. His cheeks are flushed, he’s breathing quickly, and his hands are trembling where he rests them against his knees. 

“Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs, and Yuuri flushes darker. “Don’t be scared.” He reaches up and takes Yuuri’s hand again. “We talked about this. You know what I want. You told me what you want. It’ll be OK. No one’s perfect the first time they do anything, so I won’t mind if you’re no good.” Viktor grins. “I probably won’t even be able to tell!”

“You really need to work on your pep talks,” Yuuri mumbles, squeezing Viktor’s fingers. 

“What would you rather I said?”

“Nothing,” Yuuri says. “Don’t say a word.” And he straddles Viktor’s naked hips and kisses him deep into the pillows. 

The realness of it all, Yuuri’s skin on Viktor’s, Yuuri’s lips on Viktor’s, Yuuri’s soft spots against Viktor’s, and Yuuri’s hardest spot pressing against Viktor’s thigh, is overwhelming. Viktor could cry.  

“Yuuri…” Viktor whispers, even though he knows he’s not supposed to talk. He can’t help it. Yuuri’s name tastes as good as Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri comes up for air.

“What is it? Is everything all right? Should I stop?”

“It’s perfect, keep going,” Viktor murmurs, pulling Yuuri back down so he can taste him, smell him, feel him. 

They kiss for longer than Viktor thought either of them would last. When he can bear it no longer, Viktor takes hold of one of Yuuri’s hands and directs it down from where it had clutched Viktor’s lower back with a desperation that was nothing short of tender. Viktor guides Yuuri’s hand over the curve of his ass to the cleft between his cheeks. Yuuri’s kisses slow. 

“Vitenka?” Yuuri asks. “Are you sure you want that?”

Viktor rolls his hips and presses into Yuuri’s lower hand. He’s ready for this. He’s waited his whole life for a man like Yuuri, without ever thinking about a man like Yuuri until they collided in Sochi. “Positive.”

Yuuri takes Viktor’s ass in both his hands and kneads it as they kiss harder. Viktor is flushed, he can feel it, just like how he can feel Yuuri’s index finger cautiously searching as they grind together and twist the sheets into ropes. Yuuri’s finger eventually finds its mark. Viktor gasps at the light contact, that intimate part of him shuddering once. 

“There?” Yuuri asks, breaking the kiss as he presses a little harder and watches Viktor’s expression. 

Viktor bites his lower lip and nods. Yuuri smiles. He releases Viktor, and Viktor is about to whine again when Yuuri grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside table (how did that get there?) and drizzles some over his fingertips. The way he does it, as though he is familiar with the procedure and knows his way around a bottle of lube, makes Viktor’s heart race. 

“Here, let’s try it this way,” Yuuri murmurs, kneeling beside Viktor and sliding a hand between Viktor’s thighs as he leans closer for another kiss. Viktor spreads his legs a little and tilts his pelvis forward to allow Yuuri easier access. 

This position is apparently more intuitive for Yuuri. He finds Viktor’s entrance right away. 

“Ah…” Viktor breathes. Yuuri traces the perimeter with one slick finger, over and over. “Yuuri…you’re teasing me…”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Yuuri murmurs. 

“You won’t. I’ve had lots of practice. I’m good at practising.”

“That you are,” Yuuri says, and slips his fingertip inside up to the second knuckle. 

Viktor draws a gasp. An open-mouthed, quivery-lipped, wide-eyed gasp. His knees tremble.

“OK?” Yuuri asks. He strokes the length of Viktor’s face lightly with the back of his free hand. 

Viktor nods. Yuuri presses deeper, pushes a small moan past Viktor’s lips. 

“You’re so warm,” Yuuri whispers in awe. Viktor bites back a smile. He likes to hear Yuuri talk about his _down there_ like that. It’s cute. 

“What else?” Viktor prompts.

Yuuri blinks. “What do you mean?”

“What else am I down there? Other than warm?”

Yuuri crooks his finger a little, a question mark. Viktor gasps again. 

“Tight,” Yuuri says, looking dazed. “You’re so tight.”

Viktor grabs the bottle of lube from the sheets beside him. He hands it to Yuuri. “More, please,” Viktor says.

“More lube, or more fingers?” Yuuri asks, smiling, as he extracts his finger and pours more lube on his fingers, coating the first two. 

“Both,” Viktor says softly. Yuuri grants him his wish, and having the two fingers inside means Viktor is trembling, sweating, chest heaving. 

“OK?” Yuuri asks again, looking worried. 

“It’s good,” Viktor says, and he presses down, sliding further over Yuuri’s fingers until he can feel Yuuri’s lowest knuckles. “I can take more.”

For all Viktor’s insistence and his own obvious desire, Yuuri is slow. Viktor feels more relaxed than any Swedish massage has ever made him after half an hour of this.

“We never talked about position,” Yuuri says eventually. “It’ll be rougher if you’re on your back.” Yuuri traces Viktor’s mouth with his fresh fingertip. He has apparently done a great deal of research. The idea of Yuuri combing the internet from his phone during breaks in practice on Viktor’s behalf floods Viktor with pure affection. 

“That’s fine,” Viktor says, because it is.

“I don’t want to be rough with you. Not this time, anyway.” Yuuri kisses Viktor sweetly, then reaches for more lube. “Want to lie on your stomach? If you put a pillow under your hips it might help too.”

Thank goodness at least one of them is a thorough planner, Viktor thinks. He rolls onto his stomach and stuffs a pillow under his hips. His ass is in the air, and he looks over his shoulder at Yuuri.

“Like this?”

Yuuri blinks a few times, closes his eyes, opens them, closes them, shakes his head, and opens them again. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

Viktor watches Yuuri’s face as he slips his freshly lubed fingers inside again, glazing Viktor and relaxing him further. Yuuri can get deeper in this position, and the intensity of penetration is enough that Viktor gives an involuntary yelp and thrusts into the pillow. 

“Woah,” Yuuri says, easing off. “Good or bad?”

Viktor reaches behind him, grabs Yuuri’s fingers, which are still playing at his entrance, and plunges them back inside. 

“Good,” Viktor says, cramming his forehead against the mattress and panting. “So good.” Viktor has fingered himself and invested a small fortune in dildos, but nothing he has ever done to himself compares to the feeling of Yuuri touching him like this.

Yuuri prolongs the anticipation to a punishing degree. Viktor begins to wonder what he did to deserve such cruelty. 

“Yuuri…” Viktor whispers. 

“Hmm?”

“Are you ready? I’m ready. Past ready. I’m almost done.”

“Oh, sorry. I like doing this, and I read the longer the better.”

“To an extent,” Viktor murmurs, drooling a little on the sheets. 

Yuuri withdraws, rolls on a condom like he’s practised the act, then pours lube over himself, leaving a thick, dripping layer over his thick shaft and pink head. Somewhere between emerging from the shower and now, he’s become fully erect. The sight of Yuuri’s excitement heightens Viktor’s sense of urgency.

Yuuri kisses Viktor, once. On the ass. Right _there_. Viktor doesn’t need any further prep, and he knows Yuuri can tell, but Viktor melts at the gesture anyway. It means Yuuri isn’t afraid of going there, touching Viktor like that. That Yuuri adores and wants every inch of Viktor. Further exploration will have to wait for another night, but the possibility, conveyed in the sweetest of kisses, a tender aperitif, ruins Viktor. He has never wanted anyone or anything more than he wants Yuuri and for Yuuri to be his for the rest of time. Whether or not Yuuri truly understands, Viktor is Yuuri’s. He will always be Yuuri’s. 

Yuuri rests himself at Viktor’s entrance, only the lightest pressure against the tight pucker of muscle there. 

“Please, Yuuri, you’re killing me,” Viktor says, shimmying his hips and sliding back toward Yuuri. “How can you do this?”

Yuuri’s cock is much thicker than his fingers, and bigger when erect than Viktor expected. It’s smooth—silken, almost—as it slides inside, parting Viktor’s ass in one gradual motion. 

“Ah…” Viktor moans, rubbing his face against the sheets. He clenches his fists and curls his toes. “Ah…Yuuri…” 

“Does it hurt?”

Well, it doesn’t _not_ hurt. It’s the largest and most unpredictable thing Viktor’s ever had up there, so he’s bound to feel the stretch. 

“A little.”

“Want me to stop?”

“Never.”

Yuuri presses in further. Viktor had thought that was all, but he was very mistaken. He can feel his insides parting inch by inch during Yuuri’s controlled invasion. He grits his teeth and tries not to cry out for fear Yuuri might stop. Viktor’s glad they decided he should be face-down for this, otherwise Yuuri would see the tears welling in Viktor’s eyes. 

“You’re really quiet,” Yuuri murmurs. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stop?”

“No. I mean yes. I’m sure. Don’t stop.”

When the stretch and sensation of being full reaches its peak, and Viktor’s afraid he might have to ask Yuuri to stop, maybe just for a minute, he feels something soft against the backs of his thighs. 

“It’s all the way in,” Yuuri murmurs. He leans forward, pressing his chest to Viktor’s back, and kisses Viktor’s nape. He traces the sides of Viktor’s outstretched arms with his fingertips. “Still OK?”

“Better than OK.” Viktor grins. He loves the feeling of Yuuri against him and within him. He rolls his hips once experimentally. The resulting slide inside makes him catch his breath.

“Oh, can I move? Does that feel good?”

“Yes…” Viktor hisses. “Please…”

Yuuri gives a careful thrust. Viktor whimpers and clamps a hand over his mouth. 

“It’s fine if you don’t want—”

“Yuuri.” Viktor looks over his shoulder at Yuuri and blinks a few times. Yuuri is so pretty, kneeling there, hands on Viktor’s hips, a flush blossoming in his cheeks and the top of his chest. Viktor only wishes he could see the exact point at which they become one. “I want it. If I don’t, I’ll say something. So go ahead. Do what I know you want to do. I’ll be fine. And if I’m not, I’ll let you know. OK?”

Yuuri turns a darker shade of pink. “OK,” he croaks, and withdraws his hips a little, then plunges deep inside again. 

Viktor drags a spare pillow to his face and bites into it to keep from crying out again. He doesn’t want to alarm Yuuri, but Viktor thinks he might just be loud in bed. 

How unsurprising. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I never knew what to make of Mickey saying Yuuri looked like a “closet pervert”. Did he mean this in a homophobic way (i.e. he thought Yuuri was a closeted man who likes men) or did he mean this in a thinking-way-too-much-about-what-accessories-Yuuri-might-enjoy way (i.e. Yuuri’s a kinky fuck)?
> 
> Well, I don’t know if Yuuri was ever really closeted (and YOI is supposedly homophobia-free), so let’s say Mickey thinks Yuuri’s a kinky fuck.
> 
> He’s right.
> 
> (Felching + anal beads + possessive Yuuri + performance masturbation for MagicalMirai, evilteddybear, and wookbutt09. More requests will be filled in later chapters!)

The next few times they have sex, Viktor continues to bottom. He likes it. He gets better at it. The first time he straddles Yuuri and rides him to climax, Yuuri all but loses his mind. Where Viktor tends to be vocal in bed, Yuuri is usually quieter, his occasional soft moans and muted grunts his only audible indications of pleasure. But that time, he had cried Viktor’s name as he came, clutching Viktor’s wrists, planted in the duvet on either side of Yuuri’s head. He had been oddly quiet, even for him, afterwards, pulling Viktor close and spooning him, nose against neck, until they both fell asleep.

Viktor’s the one who suggests they stop using condoms.

“Uh,” is Yuuri’s reaction from over the top of his water bottle. They’re breaking after a morning of jumps and spins. Viktor is breathless, but Yuuri doesn’t appear to be feeling the strain yet.

“We can both get tested, if you want,” Viktor says. “I’ve never done as much with anyone else as I’ve done with you, but I know you’re anxious, so why don’t we go to a clinic together?”

Yuuri ducks his head, his expression very different from the one he wore only this morning when he was seven inches deep inside Viktor. He’s bashful.

“Or we can keep using condoms, if you prefer,” Viktor says. “Only, I kind of want to feel your cum inside me.”

Yuuri gags on his drink, water spilling down his chin. The sound is music to Viktor’s ears. “Sure,” Yuuri says, once he collects himself. “There’s a sexual health clinic in Fukuoka.” Viktor doesn’t ask how Yuuri knows that.

“It’s a date!” Viktor cries, hugging Yuuri. Yuuri blushes but hugs him back, looking around to make sure no one can see. 

-

They cram in an intense training session a few mornings later and then take the train to Fukuoka. Yuuri wants to get the clinic over with as soon as possible, so they head there straight from the train station.

In the waiting room, Yuuri has his face hidden behind a surgical mask and, redundantly, his turned-up collar. Viktor makes an effort to be less flamboyant than usual, for Yuuri’s sake. The last thing either of them want is a tabloid scandal about STIs, one-night stands, and a relationship on the rocks right before the Grand Prix Final.

The interview with a doctor, during which Viktor does most of the talking, doesn’t take long. The blood and urine samples they provide are even faster.

“See?” Viktor says as they practically skip out of the clinic. “Easy!” Their rapid point-of-care testing results were all negative.  

“You told the doctor about what we’ve done!”

“Yes, and?”

“What if it gets to the press?”

“I think there’s a professional code against telling the press about patients’ sexual habits,” Viktor says, giving Yuuri’s waist a squeeze. “Besides, I think she thought we were cute.”

Viktor leads Yuuri to a nearby café. They sit across from one another with their knees brushing under the table as they sip their drinks, sharing dog videos from the internet while Yuuri corrects Viktor’s blossoming Japanese.

“Excuse me,” a feminine voice interrupts them. “Where are you from?”

Viktor looks up from the video of a Russian man rolling on the floor cuddling a litter of pugs he was in the middle of showing Yuuri. A pretty young woman is standing beside their table wearing a cute jumper and a smile. “I’m from Russia,” Viktor replies in careful Japanese, extending his hand to her. “My name’s Viktor.”

The woman giggles and accepts his hand, pressing it lightly. “My name’s Misaki and I’m from Fukuoka.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Viktor nods at Yuuri, then releases Misaki’s fingers. “This is Yuuri. He’s from Hasetsu.”

“An honour,” Misaki murmurs, bowing her head, dimples flashing. “Your Japanese is very good for a foreigner’s,” she says, turning her back to Yuuri. It’s clear she isn’t a figure skating fan; she doesn’t recognise Viktor. But she’s flirting with him all the same. “How did you learn?”

Viktor opens his mouth to respond but chokes when something hard connects with his groin under the table. When his eyes flit to Yuuri, Viktor sees him leaning forward in his chair, gazing at Misaki with a polite expression of vague disinterest. Viktor glances down and catches sight of the toe of Yuuri’s trainer pressed against the front of Viktor’s trousers.

The trainer must be filthy!

“Ah,” Viktor says, smiling past his undoubtedly furious blush, “they say nothing motivates a man to learn a language the way love does.”

Yuuri grinds his toe a little harder. Viktor’s cock twitches in recognition beneath its casing of lace underpants and silk patterned trousers.

“Love?” Misaki asks, frowning. “Am I too late?”

“Late?” Viktor asks, lost, tugging at his collar. He had had a thought about where the conversation should go, but now he’s forgotten. He’s overheating.

“Yes,” Yuuri interrupts, leaning on his elbows, cupping his chin in his hands. He is radiant. “I’m afraid so.” He gazes steadily at Misaki, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Misaki looks back and forth between Viktor and Yuuri, her frown dissolving as a look of glee overtakes her face.

“Are you a couple?” Misaki demands.

Viktor glances at Yuuri, uncertain.

“Yes,” Yuuri says again. He reaches across the table and Viktor automatically takes his hand. The foot in Viktor’s groin twists in approval. Viktor’s breath catches in his throat. He can’t take his eyes off Yuuri.

“Oh,” Misaki says softly as the blood from her nose splatters onto the front of her jumper. “Can I get a picture?”

“Sure,” Viktor says. He glances at Yuuri out the corner of his eye, feeling sly. “Selfie?”

The three of them lean in close together, and Viktor puts his arm around Misaki’s shoulders, pulling her tightly against him for the shot as Misaki holds a napkin to her nose and grins sheepishly into the camera on her phone. Yuuri awards Viktor with a savage twist of his toes coupled with increased pressure and an upward sliding motion. When the photo goes viral a few days later, Viktor can’t help but wonder how many people notice the sneaky glint in Yuuri’s eyes and the blush colouring not only Viktor’s cheeks, but the top of his chest as well.

-

“You like the attention, don’t you?” Yuuri murmurs that evening on the train back to Hasetsu. “Being famous.”

“She didn’t know who we were,” Viktor says, thinking of Misaki, and how Yuuri’s foot had felt against him. He knows Yuuri is thinking of her too.

“She still liked you.”

“Probably.”

“She did.”

“Yes,” Viktor accedes.

“I like you more,” Yuuri says, resting a hand on Viktor’s knee. Their gently swaying carriage is almost empty but for a napping old man a few seats ahead of them.

“I know,” Viktor says softly. He swoops down and kisses Yuuri’s mouth before either of them have time to think about it. When he goes to pull away as quickly as he approached, Yuuri takes the hair on the back of Viktor’s head in his fist and holds him in place, pressing back hard with his lips.

“Viktor,” Yuuri says, when they part for a moment, noses mere millimetres apart. Viktor can feel Yuuri’s warm breath, which tastes like the strawberry macarons they shared for dessert, against his mouth. “I think you know already how I feel when other people try to take your attention away from me the way she did.”

“She didn’t succeed.” Viktor brushes the hair back from Yuuri’s brow. “You know that.”

“But she tried.”

“Yuuri, I want _you_ ,” Viktor whispers, “so you never have to worry about who wants me.”

Yuuri releases Viktor and leans back a little. He bites his bottom lip and gazes into the blackness beyond the train window.

“I know it’s not that easy,” Viktor continues. “But you know how I feel about you, you know that I lo—”

Yuuri silences Viktor with another kiss. It’s more aggressive this time. There’s more tongue.

They barely make it back to the ryokan with their clothes intact. The second the ballroom door is closed behind them, they strip one another, fingers fumbling, buttons rolling, clothes flying.

Viktor doesn’t even try to stifle his moans when Yuuri pushes him up against the wall, one hand squeezing Viktor’s ass while the other splays across Viktor’s ribs.

“I’ve always wondered,” Yuuri says, gazing up at Viktor as Viktor struggles to catch his breath, “what does Viktor Nikiforov like to do in bed?”    

“Katsuki Yuuri, of course,” Viktor says, without missing a beat.

Wait, did Yuuri say _always_?

“No, I mean, when he’s alone,” Yuuri says. He presses a thumb into Viktor’s left nipple and rubs circles into it. “What does he do?”

Viktor swallows. “I could show you,” he blurts. Yuuri’s thumb slows. “Do you want to see? I brought my toys with me.”

For the second time since Misaki, Yuuri’s confidence falters. “You did?” He gapes at Viktor.

“I brought my whole life with me,” Viktor says, looking away. He’s still a little embarrassed about how things began. Fortunately, he didn’t misplace that suitcase. It’s in the back of his closet, since there is no space under a Japanese bed.

Yuuri puts a finger under Viktor’s chin and tilts his face so they’re looking in one another’s eyes once more. The tune of Eros plays somewhere in the distant corners of Viktor’s mind.

“Why don’t you go get them? I love your performances.”

Viktor hesitates. “ _All_ of my toys?” His suitcase of bedroom accessories includes lingerie, toys, scented oils, and lubricants. He had done some shopping before he left Russia, adding restraints to his collection with memories of Yuuri’s assertive dancing to motivate him. The suitcase isn’t big, but it’s not small, either. Work hard, play hard has always been Viktor’s motto, even if he never had much time to play with others.

“Your favourite,” Yuuri modifies.

Viktor doesn’t require further prompting. After a brief kiss, Viktor disentangles himself from Yuuri and goes to the closet. He rummages through its contents until he locates the Gucci GG Supreme carry-on harbouring his more private possessions. He lays it flat on the floor, unzips it, and throws back the front panel.

“Wow,” Yuuri says from across the room, his tone both amused and bemused. “I think you could give Tiger Woods a run for his money.”

Viktor traces his lips with his fingertip as he eyes his options. Yuuri asked him for his favourite, which is easily the vibrating prostate massager, but Viktor was never one to fulfil people’s expectations exactly as they envisioned. He grabs the satin sachet in which his six-and-a-half-inch string of vibrating anal beads is coiled. Viktor flounces back to Yuuri and presses the sachet into his palm.

“Here,” Viktor murmurs, nosing Yuuri’s neck. “I like these.”

Yuuri leans into Viktor’s soft neck kisses as he undoes the sachet’s ribbon ties and extracts the anal beads.

“These?” Yuuri asks, making eye contact. He holds up the string of pink translucent beads and corresponding controls. “These are your favourite?”

“They are tonight,” Viktor replies, and kisses Yuuri’s neck again. “Do you know how to use them?”

“No.”

“I’ll teach you,” Viktor says. He slides his fingers down Yuuri’s arm to his hand, then leads Yuuri to the bed.

Viktor reclines on the sheets and reaches into the drawer of his bedside table for a bottle of lube.

“Always use lube,” Viktor says.

Yuuri, looking interested, kneels on the bed next to Viktor. “Of course.”

Viktor slicks the first two fingers of his right hand with the lube, closes the bottle’s cap, and tosses it onto the sheets. They’ll need more later. He follows the rim of his _down there_ , which quivers at his first touch but relaxes as he works it. He gazes at Yuuri as he does this, lips parted, fringe falling in his eyes, heart pounding. He’s never masturbated for anyone before. He likes this. He likes how Yuuri looks at him with a mixture of surprise and excitement. Viktor closes his eyes in concentration as he bears down a little and slips a finger inside.

“Eyes on me, Viktor,” Yuuri says, pushing up Viktor’s chin. The breath catches in Viktor’s throat and he opens his eyes. Yuuri is watching him with flushed cheeks and lips that glitter in the low lamplight. “I want you to look at me and nowhere else.”

“Yes, Yuuri,” Viktor replies obediently. He gasps a little when his fingertip grazes his prostate. “Oh…”

“What do you feel?” Yuuri asks quietly.

“Good. I feel good with you here.” And safe, and beautiful, and respected, and desired… Viktor reaches with his left hand to brush Yuuri’s knee. “Do you like this?”

“Yes,” Yuuri murmurs, leaning closer. He smiles coyly. “Why don’t you put another finger in?”

Viktor could never deny Yuuri anything. He slips another finger inside, moaning at the abrupt stretch. “Ah…”

“That face you make is so cute,” Yuuri whispers. He strokes Viktor’s cheek with his crooked index finger. “Do you want me to lube up the beads for you?”

“Please,” Viktor says. He lets his head flop against the pillows as he twists and scissors his fingers, but a second later, Yuuri has tucked a hand behind Viktor’s hair and drawn his head back up. Their gazes meet again.

“No,” Yuuri says. “Look at me. Only me. You said you would.”

“Yes, Yuuri,” Viktor repeats. He watches Yuuri cover the beads in a liberal layer of lube. Yuuri is very attentive, as though it is his sworn duty in life to ensure Viktor has nothing but silky smooth anal experiences for the rest of time. “Good,” Viktor says, when the beads are ready. He slides his fingers out, and he feels empty without them. He touches Yuuri’s wrist and draws Yuuri’s hand with the beads between his legs. “Put them in, please. Slowly.”

Yuuri pushes his hair back and squints in focus as he guides the smallest of the beads inside. Viktor bites his lip and exhales heavily through his nose.

“It’s when you take them out that it feels best,” Viktor says, “but to have someone else put them in… To have _you_ put them in…that feels good too.” Yuuri glances up and, when he sees Viktor watching him, smiles a thousand-watt smile.

Viktor knows there are three beads. Three beads of increasing size on a thick silicone string with a broad, heart-shaped plug at the end.

The second bead glides inside, creating more stretch than either Viktor’s fingers or the first bead.

“Oh.” Viktor gasps. Without meaning to, he grabs Yuuri’s arm.

Yuuri raises his eyebrows.

“It’s OK,” Viktor says quickly. “I just really like this.” He doesn’t dare look away from Yuuri to see what either of their cocks is doing, but Viktor can feel the swell in his already. He wonders if Yuuri thinks his is pretty. 

“One more,” Yuuri murmurs, gazing unabashedly at the space between Viktor’s legs. He might as well be reading a book on poodles, the expression on his face is so engrossed. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Viktor says. Yuuri pushes the third and largest bead inside, and Viktor moans the word again. “Yes…oh…Yuuri…yes…” He’s stretched and full, the pressure against his prostate like the push of the button that drives his cock flat up against his lower abdomen. And then Yuuri flicks on the switch, and the whole length of the string begins to vibrate.

“Vitenka,” Yuuri says, and his lube-slicked hand finds Viktor’s hot and swollen cock, thumb resting against the tip. “Did you say it feels best when they’re taken out?”

Viktor opens his mouth to reply, but gasps instead when Yuuri draws his fist down the length of Viktor’s shaft, fast, from tip to root, his littlest finger pressing into the flesh below Viktor’s navel.

Viktor can’t help it. He whimpers as he gazes at Yuuri, jaw slack and pelvic floor muscles taut.  

“You like that, don’t you?” Yuuri asks, hushed. All Viktor can do is nod vigorously and whimper again.

Yuuri turns up the speed. The pitch of Viktor’s whines rises proportionally.

“I don’t have enough hands to cover your mouth,” Yuuri whispers as he continues to stroke Viktor’s cock, his other hand on the controls, “so you’re going to have to do it for me unless you want to wake my family.”

“I don’t mind if I do,” Viktor says, his voice halting. “Wouldn’t they be proud you’re so talented?”

Yuuri glares at Viktor, who promptly clamps a hand over his own mouth.

Brow furrowed, biting his own palm, Viktor can scarcely stifle his keens as he watches Yuuri wank him off.

“Sh…” Yuuri says soothingly. “Sh, Vitenka, not so loud…”   

“But, Yuuri…”

Yuuri pulls on the plug and the largest bead slips out. Viktor gives a shout.

“Sh…”

“I’m going to come.” Viktor groans. So soon? “I’m going to come, if you do that again, I can’t help it, I won’t be able to stop…”

They both know what Viktor sounds like when he orgasms. It had made Makkachin bark from the hallway outside the ballroom the first time it happened. If Viktor concentrates now, he can hear Makkachin’s nails clicking on the wood beyond the Katsukis’ dog-confounding sliding doors. He must be pacing in agitation, for he issues a low growl for each of Viktor’s whimpers or groans. Poor Makkachin.

“ _Ya v poryadke_ , Makka,” Viktor calls to Makkachin, but his strangled verbal reassurances do nothing to diminish Makkachin's apparent concern. 

Yuuri pulls the second bead out and Viktor climaxes, warm cum raining down on his abdomen and chest as he cries out, twisting in Yuuri’s grasp, his vocalizations only partially smothered by Yuuri’s slippery hand crammed atop his. Makkachin, incensed, howls and paws fruitlessly at the door.

Viktor bites his grin, closes his eyes, and flops onto the pillows. His hair flutters over his face. Yuuri pulls the third bead out while Viktor is still recovering. Viktor jolts and opens his eyes at the sensation. Once again, he is left feeling empty.

“Yuuri…” Viktor sighs when he catches Yuuri’s eye. “That was so good…”

“I’m glad,” Yuuri says. He kneels at Viktor’s side, his cock blushed and pretty between his muscular skater’s thighs. Viktor eyes it a moment.

“Seems a shame to waste,” Viktor says. He rolls onto his stomach. “And I’m all stretched and wet and ready for you.” Viktor looks over his shoulder at Yuuri.

Yuuri groans and puts a hand over his face.

“What?” Viktor asks, swaying his hips from side to side. He watches Yuuri peek past his fingers to follow the movements.

“How can anyone be so attractive?” Yuuri asks, more rhetorically than anything.

“I think it’s a combination of genetics and lifestyle,” Viktor says of his ass, which he knows is really quite fetching. He arches his back into a dramatic lordosis. “Please, Yuuri? Please will you have sex with me? Again?”

He hears Yuuri gulp. “Do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” Viktor says. “I told you, I’d rather feel you come inside me.”

In a matter of seconds, Yuuri is all the way inside, chest pressed against Viktor’s back, arms wrapped around Viktor’s torso as they lie stacked against the mattress, hips grinding in tandem, Yuuri’s front teeth pressed into the back of Viktor’s neck. Viktor plants his face in the pillows and moans Yuuri’s name over and over between paralinguistic noises of appreciation. Viktor never would have thought he would get hard again so soon after orgasming, but he’s stiffening already.

“ _Da_ …” Viktor mumbles past the drool soaking into the pillow. He feels like he’s czar drunk, but he hasn’t had any alcohol. “Da… Yuuri… _trakhni menya_ …”

Yuuri must have a bit of a language kink. He bites the side of Viktor’s neck hard enough to leave a mark, trailing hot spit as he gasps and spills warmth and wetness inside. The feel of it, of Yuuri’s cum overflowing as Yuuri continues to give half-hearted thrusts throughout his orgasm, propelling his seed further inside, gives Viktor more satisfaction than his own climax did earlier.

Viktor would have expected Yuuri to rest longer than he does, but barely a moment later, Yuuri’s sitting up, pulling Viktor with him.

“I want to see it pour out,” Yuuri says, with more innocent wonder than Viktor thinks such a statement deserves. “Please, Vitenka.”

Viktor stands on his knees and feels Yuuri’s cum trickle down the backs of his thighs. He hugs himself and shivers at the sensation, then cringes before he can stop himself.

“What is it?” Yuuri asks. He trails a finger down Viktor’s spine, stopping at the dip in the small of his back. Viktor shivers again, but for a different reason this time. Yuuri’s voice had been so caring and attentive, his touch hypnotic. “What’s wrong? I didn’t like that look. You can tell me.”

“I don’t like the dripping,” Viktor says after a moment’s hesitation. He doesn’t want Yuuri to feel badly, especially because this is something he requested, but the sensation of cooling cum leaking down the backs of his legs isn’t Viktor’s favourite part about the evening.

“Oh,” Yuuri says. “I can fix that.” And before Viktor can even guess what Yuuri intends to do, Yuuri pushes Viktor prone into the blankets, slips between Viktor’s legs, hikes up Viktor’s hips, and begins lapping at the cum on Viktor’s thighs.  

Viktor, nonplussed, can only wring the sheets in his fists as Yuuri’s warm tongue follows the lines tracing down the backs of Viktor’s thighs. He rises higher and higher, first doing the left side, then the right, and when he reaches the middle, Yuuri licks right _there_ , right where it’s wettest and rawest. 

“Hng…” Viktor whimpers through his nose. He would never have dreamed Yuuri would do such a thing. Yuuri’s usual polite and traditional presentation has evaporated in the heat of their sex. “Hnnnng…”

The softness of Yuuri’s tongue is in stark contrast with the hardness of his cock only minutes earlier. He’s gentle and patient, and he sucks on Viktor’s most tender area, drawing the traces of Yuuri’s lust from Viktor’s body, a palm on each of Viktor’s cheeks to spread him wide.

Viktor holds his trembling fist to his dribbling mouth and presses his teeth into his knuckles.

“Ah…Yuuri…”

The sucking and slurping noises originating somewhere between Viktor’s cheeks are nothing short of obscene.

“Yuuri… _lyubov moya_ …are you trying to kill me?”

“No.” Yuuri’s voice is muffled. “But I am trying to make everyone else in the world dead to you.”

“There is no one else. There never has been. There’s only you. Forever.”

Yuuri makes a contented, throaty sound and continues drinking from Viktor’s ass.

-

Once they’ve tidied and showered, Viktor and Yuuri invite Makkachin inside. Makkachin, finding a safe (though exhausted) Viktor within and only a trustworthy Yuuri at his side, circles the room, nose to the floor, as though in search of the villain who made Viktor produce such alarming sounds. Finally, assured the danger has passed, Makkachin snuggles against Viktor in bed and falls asleep. Viktor and Yuuri drift off face to face, fingers entwined. The last thing Viktor sees before sleep claims him is Yuuri’s eyes, younger without his glasses, gazing at him in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to watch the Russian man cuddling pugs video referenced in this chapter, you can find it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tuB72KcEUTw (no one says “Dobrrrrrre utroooo” better than this guy, honestly).
> 
> Glossary:
> 
> Da (Russian) – yes  
> Lyubov moya (Russian) – my love  
> Trakhni menya (Russian) – fuck me  
> Ya v poryadke (Russian) - I'm fine


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor goes shopping and gets excited. Yuuri has dinner with a prospective sponsor but comes home for dessert.
> 
> (Sexting + butt plugs + overstimulation + cock warming for wookbutt09 and MagicalMirai. I admit I had to look up what cock warming is and ?? I like it ?? a lot ??!! Hope I did it justice lol. Also building up to a request from Keaslie.)
> 
> I’m descending into exam hell so can’t guarantee an update next week BUT there is more in the wings (including hot/cold play, switching, face-fucking, roleplay + service kink, MORE cock warming, etc.) ヾ( `ー´)シφ__

To the rest of the world, Viktor appears spontaneous, carefree, possibly even flippant. But on the inside, he’s calculating. One does not become a five-time world figure skating champion by winging it. Yes, Viktor’s an athletic and artistic genius, but he’s also a hard worker. And Viktor knows how to apply the concepts that led to his unrivalled international success in his everyday life. So, if he is to be Katsuki Yuuri’s boyfriend, Viktor Nikiforov will be the best damn boyfriend in the world.

Viktor has known for a long time that Yuuri likes to be pampered a little. He took to the mani-pedis like a fish to water and now reminds Viktor whenever their next appointment is coming up. Though he was slow to accept Viktor’s insistence he style Yuuri’s hair for him, Yuuri now hands Viktor the comb and sits unbidden on the floor between Viktor’s knees after his morning shower as Viktor sits on the side of the bed. Yuuri puckers his lips in anticipation when Viktor retrieves his Coco Chanel lip salve at the rink. Yuuri even lets Viktor feed him on occasion, especially now that Viktor’s chopsticks dexterity has improved (the first few attempts were messy).   

Viktor would be lying if he said he hadn’t planned this. But he knew the subtle dominance had always been within Yuuri from the moment they met in Sochi when Yuuri quite literally swept Viktor off his feet and drunkenly told Chris, in no uncertain terms, “This man is _mine_ , get your own”.

Chris, amused, had patted Yuuri’s head. “Don’t worry, sweetie, I have one already,” he had replied.

It only made sense, therefore, that the first time he bottomed, Yuuri was on top. Viktor, shocked and, if he was completely honest, a little intimidated, could only lie there and stare as Yuuri climaxed not once, but twice, on the end of Viktor’s cock before sucking Viktor off to within an inch of his life.

“That was…unexpected,” Viktor had said, breathless, when it was over.

“Mm,” Yuuri had replied, an ear to Viktor’s chest. “I was a little scared by your size at first, but I had a toy in America about equal to you and I knew if I could handle that, then I could handle you.”

Another surprise. Viktor had assumed before that night that Yuuri had never used accessories.

“Where is it now?” Viktor wonders where Yuuri would hide such things in his parents’ house, especially because Mari tends to wander into Yuuri’s room whenever she feels like it. Viktor’s room, at least for now, is safe from her intrusions.

“I threw it away before I left Detroit. I couldn’t bring any of those back to Japan with me—what if they searched my bags?”

“There’s nothing illegal about a dildo.”

“Well, that’s not exactly true in Japan…”

Viktor had never heard of Japan’s so-called obscenity laws, and was suitably horrified when Yuuri informed him. So it was with more than a little trepidation that Viktor entered his first adult store in Japan.

“May I help you, sir?” the shopkeeper asks, bowing, when Viktor steps into Leather and Lace in downtown Fukuoka. He told Yuuri he would be in Fukuoka for computer repairs, since the latest virus Yurio sent him was beyond what the tech shop in Hasetsu could handle. That was true. But Viktor had failed to mention the main reason for his day trip.

The walls are decorated with silk paper and _shunga_ , and the shopkeeper wears a suit and tie and a smile. The shop is softly lit and quiet. Viktor’s velour Oxfords pass noiselessly over the thick carpet.

“Yes, please,” Viktor says, ducking his head a little. It’s not like him to be bashful. Hadn’t he marched into the nearest sex shop in St. Petersburg (which was, in fact, rather far), the day he turned sixteen and purchased his first dildo, head held high? Hadn’t he worn bondage-inspired skating costumes in front of the world since adolescence?

“Is there anything in particular you’re looking for today?”

Viktor swallows. “A costume.”

“Ah.” The shopkeeper nods. “For you, or a partner?”

Viktor clears his throat. “For me.”

The shopkeeper maintains his respectful demeanour. “Do you have a design in mind?”

Viktor looks the shopkeeper dead in the eye and says, without a waver in his voice, “I would like to have a French maid costume tailored, please.” Viktor has always harboured a special affinity for French culture. His favourite European city is Paris and he has had a lifelong fascination with the work of Anne Desclos dite Pauline Réage. One of his grandmothers had been French. It certainly helps that he speaks the language.

“As you wish,” the shopkeeper says, bowing again. “My name is Kimura Hiroki. You are under no obligation to share your name. Please, follow me.”

-

Selecting the components of his costume—the silk stockings, the frothy garters, the lace knickers, the fitted bustier, the crinoline-lined skirt, the delicate hat, the heels (oh, the heels!)—had been a dream. Viktor loved running his fingers over fabrics, draping swatches over his skin, holding still while Mr. Kimura bobbed and danced around him, measuring tape in hand. 

“Your complexion is, if you will accept me saying it, like porcelain,” Mr. Kimura had said, when Viktor asked his opinion on one of the black silks. “Dare to go dark. The contrast will suit you, especially with that hair.”

The entire experience leaves Viktor feeling elated and erotically charged. The memory of how the lace had felt against his skin, airy and fresh, makes him whip out his phone and text Yuuri on his way out of Leather and Lace in the early evening. He has a follow up appointment arranged for a few weeks later.

_Yuuriiiii~_ he types. Yuuri might be mid-meal with his prospective sponsors, so he might not respond. 

> _Vityaaaaaaa_ , Yuuri replies immediately.

_What are you doing my little mouse?_

> _Avoiding the Koreans and thinking about you_
> 
> _(Even though they bought my whole meal, ahhh)_
> 
> _& trying not to think about Barcelona_
> 
> _But it’s all they want to talk about_

_Do you want me to call you for breathing exercises?_

> _No, it’s OK. Thanks though_
> 
> _It means a lot_
> 
> _I might need you a little more than usual when you get back though if that’s OK_

_Any time Yuuri_

> _Russian terms of endearment are weird when you say them in English btw_
> 
> _Not that you should stop_

_Myshka moya_

_I guess you like it better when I speak Russian, don’t you_

> _(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)_
> 
> _I admit there is a certain way you roll your tongue that has a specific effect on me_

_What effect is that?_

> _You know_

_Do I_

> _Yes_
> 
> _You do_
> 
> _Now I can’t stop thinking about what we were doing the last time I heard you speak RUssian_

Viktor runs a hand down the side of his face and looks about the busy street, wishing he were in Hasetsu already. He traces his lips absently as he thinks about the things he would say to Yuuri if they were together now. English or Russian, Viktor isn’t particular.

_Are you alone?_

> _I can be_

_Good. Let me know when you are_ _(´ ε ` )_ _♡_

> _Just what do you have planned?_

_…_

> _Viktor?_
> 
> _Viktor???_

_Wait and see_

> _(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) !!!!_

Viktor dashes to the nearest café. Fortunately, it’s upscale. He places an order for a coffee then locks himself in the one-person restroom. There’s a message from Yuuri waiting for him on his phone. Viktor’s heart is racing from his run, but also with anticipation. 

> _I’m alone now_

_So am I_

> _Where are you?_

_Fukuoka_

> _But where_

_Some cafe_

_In the toilets_

_Its very white_

_& it smells like vanilla in here_

_There are flowers & a bonsai _

> _That sounds nice_

_Where are you?_

> _Garden behind the restaurant_
> 
> _They took me to The Rising Sun_

_Fancy_

_How’d you get away?_

> _I said I needed air_
> 
> _They said I look like a flower so time in the garden would be good for me_

These potential Korean sponsors represent Yves Saint Laurent in most of Asia and are interested in having Yuuri as the face of their newest scent. Of course they’re poetic, and of course they care nothing about Yuuri’s mental health and bring up the impending Grand Prix Final at every opportunity. Viktor bristles at the thought of Yuuri alone with these people. He decides he should accompany Yuuri to meet prospective sponsors in the future. It’s the responsible thing to do as his coach, isn’t it?

_I’m surprised they know you look like a flower_

_I thought only I’d seen that part of you_

> _VIKTOR_

_I like that part of you_

_Pretty as a rose and twice as sweet_

> _OMG_

The last time Viktor had attempted to sext with Yuuri, it had ended rather like this. Viktor perseveres.

_So what’re you doing texting your boyfriend when you should be seducing sponsors?_

> _I’m having a business meeting with my coach_

_Oh_

_ow_

_isn’t that what your PR rep is for?_

> _Hey_
> 
> _You know I was joking, right?_

_Yes_ (^ω~)

> _I’m wearing your tie_
> 
> _It smells like you_

Viktor smiles to himself.

> _Viktor_
> 
> _uh_
> 
> _i’m a little horny now haha_

Viktor almost drops his phone.

> _guess its better than being anxious?_
> 
> _i wish you were here_

_I’m a lot horny xaxa_

_I’ve been thinking about you all day_

_I wish I was there_

> _what would u do if u were?_

Well. This is going better than anticipated. Yuuri’s impeccable texting has even slipped. Viktor leans against the wall as he responds.

_Kiss you_

_On the neck_

> _mmmm_
> 
> _i like the sounds of that_
> 
> _then what_

_whisper to you how you make me feel_

_& where you make me feel it_

> _how?_
> 
> _where?_

_you make me melt insdie_

_& feel like anythings possible_

_and you make me ache below_

> _where_

This might go a bit more elegantly if either of them spoke English as their dominant language. Oh, well.

_in front & behind_

_I wish you were here so I could press myself against you_

> _press what against me_           

Even though he’s alone, Viktor blushes. _my cock_ , he replies, shaking a little. He’s never typed such a thing. It’s not so bad in English as it would be in Russian, but it’s still…exciting to see the word there, on his screen, and knowing that it has made its way to Yuuri’s screen too.

> _mmm_
> 
> _i want that too_
> 
> _i want it against my ass_
> 
> _its so big when its hard_
> 
> _all thick and wet_
> 
> _makes me want to sit on it_

Suddenly, the cool tiled restroom is much too hot. Viktor undoes the top button of his shirt and loosens the collar.

_you want to sit on my cock?_

> _ya_
> 
> _i want to ride it_
> 
> _n watch u lose it like las ttime_
> 
> _ur so beautiful when ur cumming_

_vfakku?_

Viktor had meant to type _really?_ but hit all the wrong keys.

> _when u open ur mouth to scream my name i want to treat your face the way I treated your as s yesterday morning_

Viktor can’t believe he and Yuuri are actually sexting right now. The whole scenario feels surreal. Did someone steal Yuuri’s phone? No, it can’t be, because no one else knows how Yuuri opened Viktor up yesterday morning and fucked him until Viktor could think and say only one word: Yuuri. He had moaned it over and over, voice rising until Yuuri kissed the breath from him.

_you should do that next time_

_you taste amazing_

_i want to drink ur cum_

Viktor’s texting one-handed now. The other one has slipped past the top of his trousers and is grasping his cock. He can almost feel Yuuri sliding past his lips.

> _are u jerking off yet_

How did he know?

_maybe_

_just a little_

> _dont_
> 
> _bring it home to me_
> 
> _put it in me_

Viktor’s groans reverberate off the tiles.

_srsly_

_you want me to bring this on the train?_

> _u wont be the first man on the train like that_
> 
> _and anyway im going back to a business meeting like this_
> 
> _i think ull manage_

_Yuuriiiii_

_that’s obscene!_

_& it’s like an hour to hasetsu if i make the next train!_

> _ur the one who told me to stay in hasetsu_
> 
> _i could be in the bathroom with u rigt now if u werent so insistent_

_Yuuriiiii_

_you had a meeting_

_sponsors are important_

The idea of sex in a public place is an interesting one. Viktor files it away for further consideration later.

> _come home to me viktor_
> 
> _then cum for me_

_on my way you cruel little yagodka_

_be ready_

_I promise itll be worth the wait_

> _ill be ready_
> 
> _& waiting_

Viktor, grateful for his long coat, pays for his coffee on the way out. He leaves it at the counter and tells the barista to treat himself.

-

Makkachin and the Katsukis, minus Yuuri, greet Viktor when he returns about three hours later. He’d missed the first train to Hasetsu by about a minute and had had to wait for the next.

“Yuuri said he thought you’d be back before now,” Mrs. Katsuki says. “Are you hungry, dear?”

“Ah…” Viktor has other priorities at present. “That’s very nice of you, Mrs. Katsuki, but I’ve had a long day and I’m quite tired.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Katsuki says, her face falling. “Yuuri said you didn’t eat before leaving, so I made you supper. He’s already gone to bed.”

“Ah…” Viktor grits his teeth in frustration but smiles at Mrs. Katsuki. He won’t wake Yuuri if he is indeed asleep, but Viktor doubts he is. This all seems a little too contrived. “You’re right. Thank you so much.”

“I’ll set the table. Why don’t you put your things away? We’ve got tea made already for after dinner too.” Mrs. Katsuki smiles sweetly and hums as she heads back to the kitchen. Viktor sheds his coat on the way to his room, repaired laptop tucked under his arm, deciding he can probably arrange himself under his trousers in a way that does not draw attention to his crotch.

Yuuri isn’t in the ballroom when Viktor tosses his coat on the bed. Maybe he really did go to sleep, Viktor thinks, but the disappointing idea does nothing to deescalate the situation in his trousers. Especially not when he thinks about how Yuuri looks when he sleeps.

Dinner takes an age, but Viktor genuinely enjoys it. The Katsukis are kind people. Makkachin rests his head in Viktor’s lap as he eats, and the warm pressure there, a familiar comfort, helps Viktor relax. He’s soft by the time tea is done, the kitchen tidied, and the Katsukis are tucked into bed. Nonetheless, he sets off in search of Yuuri; Viktor made a promise, and promises to Yuuri must be kept.

Yuuri is sleeping in his own room, his face to the wall. Viktor sighs and sits on the edge of the bed. He watches Yuuri sleep for a long moment and considers kissing him awake but thinks better of it. Yuuri shivers, so Viktor draws the spare blanket from the foot of the bed up and over Yuuri’s shoulders. Satisfied Yuuri will sleep warmly now, Viktor rises and makes his way across the room to leave.

“Viktoru,” Yuuri says. Viktor freezes, memories of a hundred nights just like this flashing before his eyes. “You were late.”

“I’m sorry,” Viktor murmurs, head bowed. He turns back to the bed. Yuuri has not moved from his position on the mattress. “I missed the earliest train.” He had texted Yuuri at the time, but Yuuri had not replied.

“I waited for you for hours. I got the modelling contract.”

“I’m so glad to hear about the contract. I know you wanted it.” Yuuri has done his best to support his parents’ business and manage a staggering student debt all year, and a modelling gig with one of Europe’s biggest fashion houses is just what Yuuri needs financially. Still, Yuuri’s tacit delivery smarts. It’s not like him to be unreasonable, but Viktor was the one to start the sexts so he understands Yuuri’s frustration. “I’m sorry I’m so late…”

Yuuri heaves a shuddering sigh. “I had to use a plug so I could be ready whenever you returned.”

Viktor’s heart stutters. “What?” Yuuri and his research. After months together, Viktor has learnt that when Yuuri develops an interest in anything, he learns it completely. He is constantly surprising Viktor with obscure facts about Viktor’s own history, things not even his most crazed fans have boasted knowing about him. It’s flattering.

But it also means Yuuri must really like sex with Viktor.

Yuuri rolls over and catches Viktor’s eye. “It’s been hard to wait for you this long, especially when I could hear your voice from just down the hall. But now that you’re finally here, it’s been worth it.”

“Where’d you get the plug?” is all Viktor can think to ask. 

“It’s yours,” Yuuri replies. He wriggles a little under the blankets. “Can you come to bed now? I don’t think I can wait much longer.”

Viktor pulls his shirt off over his head in one fluid motion. His trousers and underpants hit the floor with record speed. “Is there lube in here?” he asks as he hops to tug off his socks.

“Yeah. I used a lot.” Yuuri slides a bare arm out from under the blankets to hand Viktor the bottle. “I would’ve come out to greet you, except…you know…”

“I know,” Viktor murmurs. He swoops down and kisses Yuuri’s cheek. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

Viktor draws back the blankets and emits a small gasp when he sees what awaits him. Yuuri, naked, is on his hands and knees, ass in the air, his beautiful cheeks round and full on either side of Viktor’s largest black jewelled butt plug.

“Oh,” Viktor says. He knew what to expect, but he’s still surprised.

“I used the largest because…well…you’re you.”

Viktor traces the perimeter of the onyx gem, his finger light against Yuuri’s skin. Yuuri presses back into Viktor’s touch.

“If you take it out, will you get in quickly?” Yuuri asks. Viktor knows too well the strong need for something to be _down there_ , so he kisses the small of Yuuri’s back and whispers assurances.

“Yes, myshka, you’ll be empty for only a second.”

Yuuri hums in approval and pushes his ass higher, his face lower. “And I want to be on my back,” Yuuri adds. Viktor’s wandering fingers falter.

“Are you sure?”

“I want you to watch me,” Yuuri mumbles, almost as though he’s embarrassed.

“I always do.”

“But I want to see you watching me. I don’t care if it’s rougher.” Yuuri looks over his shoulder at Viktor. “I want to try it rougher.”

Viktor gulps. He had not expected this. “Ah, Yuuri, I haven’t really had time to think about it.”

Yuuri flops onto his back and spreads his legs so Viktor can still look at the black adornment stashed between Yuuri’s cheeks. Yuuri’s hard and Viktor feels a flash of guilt. Exactly how long had Yuuri waited for him like this? “You mean you haven’t thought about what it would be like?”

Viktor only thinks of softness when he thinks of being with Yuuri. Even the restraints he owns are silk.

“To be honest, no.” Maybe he had thought about what it would be like for Yuuri to be a little harder, more decisive when he tops, as he is when he bottoms. But certainly not the inverse.

Yuuri pouts and takes one of Viktor’s hands. “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, and if we try it and you don’t like it, you don’t have to continue.” Yuuri draws Viktor’s hand to the side of his face and holds it there, Viktor’s palm against Yuuri’s fresh cheek. “But all evening I’ve been thinking about how I want you do be less restrained. I know you hold back. I know how strong you are. You can do more than you do.”

Viktor has always been afraid of breaking Yuuri. His soft, delicate, precious Yuuri. Never mind that Yuuri can bench Viktor (and has). Viktor has always been cautious with Yuuri’s heart, mind, and body.

“What’s so bad about being less gentle?” Yuuri presses.

“What if I hurt you?” The idea makes Viktor feel sick.  

“You won’t.”

“I could. You’re right, I’m strong. And I’m bigger than you. I could really hurt you.” Viktor strokes the length of Yuuri’s cheek, down and then up. “I couldn’t live with myself if I did that.”

Yuuri pulls Viktor’s hand to his mouth and kisses the palm, soft and tender. “How about this? You go a little harder tonight, and once I’ve come, you can be as gentle as you want.”

“You have twice the stamina I have!”

Yuuri chuckles. “Not after four hours with this inside me.”

Viktor chews his lip. He isn’t so sure.

“Please, Vitenka…”

It’s the _Vitenka_ that does him in.

“OK,” Viktor says. “We can try.”

“That’s all I ask,” Yuuri murmurs. He watches Viktor work himself with one lubricated hand. When this is done, Yuuri reaches between his legs and grimaces. “Now to get this out…”

Viktor stays Yuuri’s hand. “Wait.” And then he pushes one slick finger inside, right along the tapering edge of the plug. It takes no small amount of force, and Yuuri’s taut skin slides smooth and hot against Viktor’s knuckle. Yuuri gives a strangled gasp in response to the even greater stretch in his rectum when Viktor swivels his finger inside.

“Uh, Viktor…” Viktor pops the plug out, and Yuuri whines in protest. “No…ah…Viktor… I need you…I need you inside…now…”

Viktor drops the plug on the sheets and carefully aligns himself with Yuuri, who is open and ready to accept him.

“Vitenka…please…” Yuuri seizes Viktor’s hips and pulls him forward. Viktor plunges inside in one rapid motion. There is no gentle tease at Yuuri’s entrance. There are no more whispered assurances. It’s counterintuitive, but the look Yuuri gives Viktor, with his glasses off and his hair pushed back and his lips parted and trembling, makes it worth the internal struggle.

“Yes,” Yuuri murmurs. He reaches up to put his arms around Viktor’s neck, drawing their chests together. Yuuri holds the back of Viktor’s head in his hand, wraps his legs tightly around Viktor’s waist, and whispers into his ear. “Harder,” Yuuri says softly, ankles crossed in the small of Viktor’s back. “And faster. And watch me.”

This is what Yuuri wants, Viktor reminds himself as he pistons deep, until the tops of his thighs are slamming into Yuuri’s ass. Yuuri asked for it. He said he needed it. He’s enjoying it. All of these things, Yuuri’s wants, needs, and enjoyment, are what Viktor has sworn to himself he will satisfy, within reason. And so far, Viktor can do this. Viktor likes this.

Yuuri’s breaths come fast and loud and he clenches Viktor’s hair in his fist. The narrow bed creaks beneath them, and Viktor thinks he hears Makkachin, who loves Yuuri almost as much as Viktor does, sniffing at the door.

“Are you OK?” Viktor asks quietly. Yuuri has had his eyes closed and head tilted back for a minute now. He’s gorgeous.   

“Yeah,” Yuuri says past his teeth, voice wavering with their rhythmic movements. “Ah, yes, _yes_ , Vitenka. Harder.” He opens his eyes and watches Viktor’s hips slide back and forth, each forward motion punctuated with the subtle slapping of skin against skin.

Viktor obeys.

It’s breath-taking, loving Yuuri this way, literally and figuratively. A few minutes in, holding Yuuri upright while fucking him harder than Viktor ever has before, Viktor’s arms begin to tire. But Yuuri isn’t sated yet.

“Harder,” Yuuri moans. He bites Viktor’s earlobe, stretches it between his teeth. “Harder Vitenka, please, I need it…I need you…”

Viktor pulls out and, before Yuuri can comment, lifts Yuuri to his knees, spins him around, and bear hugs him from behind. Yuuri’s arms form an X over his chest and Viktor pins them there with one of his own as he uses his free hand to direct himself inside again. Yuuri sighs, relieved, when he feels Viktor’s warmth within him. Viktor rests his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder and resumes his vigorous thrusts, breathing heavily into Yuuri’s ear as they watch one another out the corners of their eyes.

“You’re so hard on an old man,” Viktor says, panting. “Why are you so cruel, Yuuri?”

“You’re not old!”

“Hours of wait or not, you might outlast me,” Viktor says, deciding to take matters into his own hands. He reaches around and takes hold of Yuuri’s cock and begins to stroke it.

“Ah, Viktor—!” Yuuri trembles. “Ah, _hai_ …hai, Viktoru…hai…”

“That good, hmm?” Viktor asks. He doesn’t know what he was worried about. He can tell Yuuri loves this. And if Yuuri loves this, then Viktor loves this.

“Perfect,” Yuuri says, and comes. He makes a few high-pitched noises of appreciation. Viktor doesn’t stop thrusting or stroking Yuuri’s front. “Ah…” Yuuri says, voice weak. “Th-that—it’s t-too m-much…” He chirps like a bird and clenches tightly around Viktor, body heaving.

Yuuri’s overstimulated. It apparently doesn’t take much. 

“Vi-Vi-Vi-k-toru…” Yuuri gasps between thrusts, drawing out the last syllable. He’s falling forward but Viktor readjusts his arm around Yuuri’s waist to hold him up. Yuuri plants his palms against the wall, eyes tightly closed as he moans. “Ah…ah… Vi-Vi-ten-ka….”

“Yes?” Viktor asks, still diving hard and deep, still pumping Yuuri’s front with a swift and slick fist, cum and lube firing them toward Yuuri’s next climax. Viktor knows Yuuri can manage it; he’s done it before. Yuuri shivers, knees vibrating with exertion.

“Ah…it’s too…too…I’m going to…” He chokes out a few Japanese words, too fast for Viktor to follow. “Ah… _Vitenka_ …again…”

Yuuri comes again. His hips buck and his shoulders shake and he is silent as his muscles tighten and slide beneath his smooth and sweaty skin.

“Thank you…” Yuuri whimpers when Viktor slows, wondering if maybe it was a bit much. Viktor hasn’t come yet, but the sounds Yuuri emits are enough to make Viktor wonder if he’s doing too much, too fast. Maybe he’s a sex genius as well as a skating genius.

“ _Ya lyublyu tebya vsem serdtsem_ ,” Viktor murmurs, kissing the back of Yuuri’s neck, and then, without warning, he comes. In the far recesses of his mind not taken up by his sparking climax, Viktor supposes Yuuri can’t have understood him. But Viktor needed to say it in Russian, because it feels more honest that way. Viktor’s brain is Russian, his spirit is Russian, his love is Russian. Therefore, he can only declare his love and mean it fully in Russian. That’s not to say his English admission to Yuuri over the phone wasn’t honest. But it was for Yuuri, deaf in sleep though he was. This time, it’s for Viktor.

“Don’t leave me,” Yuuri pleads when Viktor goes to remove himself. Yuuri clutches Viktor’s hand against his chest desperately. Viktor can feel Yuuri’s hummingbird heart against his palm. “I need it still. I need you. Stay with me.”

Was the dinner this evening really so stressful? Yuuri seems more fragile than usual. So Viktor sits with his back against the wall, Yuuri between his legs, cock still within. He wraps the blankets around them and presses his nose into Yuuri’s hair as they hold one another, the scents of sweat and sex heavy in the bedclothes.

It’s nice to fill this simple need of Yuuri’s. To fill him and let his muscles resume their usual tension around Viktor’s softening cock as their bodies recover from the night’s excitement. It’s warm and safe, familiar and good.

“Did you like it this way?” Yuuri asks, slurring his words with fatigue. He’s heavy and limp as he leans into Viktor’s chest.

“I did, but only because you liked it so much.” Viktor gives Yuuri a gentle squeeze with his thighs. “This is nicer.”

“I like this too.” Yuuri clenches a little. Viktor inhales sharply, and the blood rushes away from his head. He feels dizzy. “Again?” Yuuri mumbles.

“No, not completely,” Viktor says, laughing. They both know his refractory period is abysmal compared to Yuuri’s. “Relax.” He peers around the back of Yuuri’s head to get a glimpse of the side of his face. “Can you sleep like this?”

“I think I could.”

Makkachin will have to sleep alone tonight, because there is no way either Yuuri or Viktor is moving from the bed to open the door. Viktor will make it up to Makkachin first thing tomorrow.

Yuuri falls asleep first, his breaths coming slow and deep, his ribs rising and falling like the tide against Viktor’s chest. Viktor lowers Yuuri gently to his side and follows him, so they are spooning. His cock slips a little within its slippery sheath, and Yuuri makes a sleep-muffled protest.

“Sh,” Viktor murmurs, repositioning himself with his hand so he’s all the way inside again. He kisses Yuuri’s nape. “It’s OK, I’m not going anywhere.”

Yuuri hums contentedly, warm and snug around Viktor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:
> 
> Hai (Japanese) – yes   
> Myshka (moya) (Russian) – (my) little mouse [term of endearment]  
> Shunga (Japanese) – erotic art   
> Ya lyublyu tebya vsem serdtsem (Russian) – I love you with all my heart  
> Yagodka (Russian) – berry [term of endearment]  
> Xaxa (Russian) – haha

**Author's Note:**

> I take requests. Actually, I encourage them. What do you want to read about? BJs? Anal beads? Edging? Roleplay? Ropes? Striving for in-character depictions but will consider most things.


End file.
